The night was so cold but unfortunately, Mrs. Harry had forgotten to bring anything thicker for bed. No one ever came around at this time and the old mansion was almost always empty anyway so the old librarian thought she could turn in early today.
It was no wonder that the library was empty, for the library was only ever busy in the months when there were tourists or when students had exams. The old house barely had flowing water, being such a relic, but as uncomfortable as it may have been to others, to Mrs. Harry, it was nothing less than home. She was so old that she had lost almost all her friends and had no children to speak of (they didn't live in this town), so she had no reason to go to her other house which was little more than a storehouse at this point. She also wasn't expecting any visitors, Mrs. Harry lived a quiet life and only had occasion to interact with people when they came into the library or whenever she went out to purchase basic amenities.
The people of the town cared for her though, knowing that she was too old to cater for the library alone, volunteers took shifts, watching over and cleaning the library. Mrs. Harry's presence in the library, however, remained constant. Tonight, Mrs. Harry, who had the absolute right, chose to spend the night in the library as she had many nights before. She had already gone to bed and was sleeping soundly, having a wonderful dream of lovely springs and beautiful children playing in the sun when the sound of the front door creaking open woke her up. She hadn't bothered to lock it because the town was very peaceful and besides, no one ever robbed a library. The night was still so cold that Mrs. Harry had to shut her window before going downstairs to see who it was.
. . . . . . . . . . . . .
There was no one at the counter when Ophelia entered. She stood panting in the library for a few moments completely distraught, beads of sweat forming on her face and her shirt gradually getting drenched as she tried to catch her breath. She was so relieved to see the door open that she hadn't thought of the possibility that no one would be around. However, Mrs. Harry came in through the stairs to the left of where Ophelia stood and put an end to the greatest of her fears.
Mrs. Harry's steps were so soft and it was such a grand house that Ophelia didn't notice the little librarian until she was at the very base of the stairs.
'Ophelia', she heard her name from unfamiliar lips and turned, and there stood a little old lady looking at her with eyes half her age. It was a really small town where they lived so it was not uncommon for the librarian to know Ophelia's name but Ophelia's embarrassment came from the fact that she didn't know Mrs. Harry at all, the librarian was completely new to her and she thought this was their first time meeting.
'Why are you here? At this hour?', Ophelia nearly forgot the urgency with which she rushed to the library. Her cause of course was a quest for answers. The events of the past few days were too puzzling for her to figure out on her own so she had come to the one place where she was sure to get the answers she was looking for. But now, how to articulate this to the elderly lady before her? Ophelia struggled with her words, not knowing where to begin. The librarian watched her open her mouth and close it and immediately understood.
'It's about Pearl, isn't it?', Ophelia nodded, relieved by the soothing words and an even more soothing voice. The librarian sighed, sadness clouding her bright eyes.
'You've seen her, haven't you?', Mrs. Harry ventured to ask again. This time Ophelia nodded slowly, it seemed this librarian understood. But how?
'How did you know?', Ophelia asked.
'Come with me', the librarian said. As they walked down the library, a maze of shelves, Mrs. Harry began to explain.
'I have been a librarian for over 40 years. I have seen many things, some of which you may not believe. People always come here, always come to me for answers. There is a lot of wisdom here', At this comment, Ophelia wondered if she meant the library or herself, she looked about as old as the library but not really. Some parts of her carried the vestiges of her youth, her young eyes, and posture certainly didn't seem to belong to someone so old and there was her stately gait. But her skin was taut, and her bright eyes lay buried within the wrinkles of her face. Her voice came heavy and slow, betraying her age.
'You won't be able to read at all tonight. You're far too tired, you'll have to rest. But before you go, I'll give you the books that have the answers you seek'.
The librarian suddenly stopped and so did Ophelia, a little late as her mind was occupied making a futile attempt at remembering the route they had taken. As she looked at the particular shelves before them, she noticed that the books they held were of a different sort. For one, they varied in size, their colours and designs were so varied as though each book was dyed with the personality of its author and now carried a semblance of individuality passed on to them by their previous owner. They also weren't perfect, they didn't look like books from printing presses, some were even torn, and others had their leaves sticking out. Ophelia thought she even spied a book with a pen sticking out of it as though the author wasn't done with it and would continue on their return.
'These are-', Ophelia started
'Journals', Mrs. Harry interjected, 'They belong to some of those who have gone on the journey you're preparing for', she responded.
Ophelia was relieved. This was exactly what she was looking for, her answers lay on the shelves before her in little individualized journals. However, Ophelia didn't know where to begin; she was overwhelmed by the sheer number of books. Where was she to start? The librarian busied herself picking up a book from the shelves before her. The first had a green cover, it was slightly worn but as soon as Ophelia saw it, she knew whose it was.
'It's Pearl's', she breathed rather than said these words.
'Yes, she wanted you to have it. Her journey is recorded there', Ophelia, flowing over with gratitude, thanked the librarian profusely.
'Now, here's another', Saying that, the librarian reached out her little arms to a blue-backed journal, which looked like a complete mess. Ophelia received it gladly.
'And a third', Mrs. Harry added, getting out a journal that didn't even have a back, the front pages of which looked slightly licked by flames.
'You must return the books to me before you go', the librarian suddenly said, as Ophelia looked over her last two gifts, stunning her. But when the librarian had led her to the room where she was to spend the night and started talking about her leaving in the morning, Ophelia knew the journey she meant wasn't the one she was taking the next day.
'You can also leave a journal for when you are gone', she added and with that, the little lady turned to leave.
'Whose journals are these?', Ophelia asked about the other two journals. The blue-backed one and the burnt one.
'You will find out soon enough', and with that the librarian shut the door to her room, leaving Ophelia alone. Ophelia sat on her bed and observed her surroundings. The room was completely bare but for the bed, and a little chair and table in the middle of the room where one might write. Ophelia let her thoughts wander. She wondered how many others like her had spent a night or more in this room, she wondered if she was missed at home, she reminisced of the old times, now several months ago, long before Pearl's disappearance and even the first warning signs of it, for even those stole the joy out of her days and the light out of her life. Then, Pearl had started moving away in a more painful way. It is very painful to have someone physically present but absent in the way that matters most and to know that all efforts would be unable to bring that one back. Ophelia grew tired and fell asleep wondering who had appeared to Pearl as Pearl did to her.
She woke up to the sound of breakfast the next day. Mrs. Harry looked her full age in the sunlight, the wrinkly face shocked Ophelia for a moment so she turned to the table with the lampstand and her books so as not to stare. The sight of the books filled her with a longing to look through them.
'Eat first', the old librarian instructed and Ophelia obeyed her host. Later, after eating, Ophelia thanked Mrs. Harry and went home to freshen up. She however only carried two of the three journals, leaving Pearl's because she feared Amber would recognize it and it would cause her no small measure of pain.
The walk back from the library was completely uneventful. Ophelia could hardly remember any landmark, tree, or individual she encountered. All her thoughts were fixated with razor-sharp attention on one thing and one thing alone, the journals in her hands. On getting home, the entire house seemed empty and bare. Ophelia made her way to the dining room to see if Pearl's mother had made anything for her. She wasn't full as the librarian had only prepared her a light meal, being unprepared for any visitors, besides, it would be rude to let any food Mrs. Julia had taken the effort to prepare go to waste. Mrs. Julia's hair was the first thing that Ophelia saw when she entered the dining room, it was prim and proper, just like the rest of her. Mrs. Julia was all but set to go out, she was just placing the finishing touches on her makeup when she sighted Ophelia in the mirror she held. She turned around to face Ophelia, evidently surprised.
'I didn't think you would come back today' she started, then her eyes began to wander, as though she couldn't stand to look at Ophelia for more than a moment. Mrs Julia walked towards where Ophelia stood and Ophelia instinctively stood aside to let her pass but before she could react, Mrs. Julia had snatched the burnt journal out of her hands.
—
'Where did you get this?' She asked. This was the first time since Pearl's disappearance that Mrs. Julia spoke to Ophelia so directly, completely focused on her and acknowledging her presence. Ophelia stared, stunned.
'It's not yours' she stuttered, reaching out for the book with her free hand.
'I asked you where you got this book?', Mrs. Julia snapped, moving so the book was out of Ophelia's reach. She looked flustered.
'You have no right', Ophelia's protest continued. What now? She had finally found a place where she could get the answers she was looking for and now this! It was all Ophelia could do to keep herself from dashing towards Mrs. Julia to get her book back, damning the consequences, but she knew whose house she lived in and she was learning in recent times not to test the limits of Mrs. Julia's benevolence.
'Well, you're not having this book back until you can tell me where you got it', Mrs. Julia placed the book and her mirror into her bag and stormed out of the house.
Ophelia collapsed on a nearby chair, frustrated. It's one thing after the other, all trying to stop her from reaching the truth.
'Well, at least I have you' she muttered to the blue-back, holding it at her eye level. Ophelia had to go out that day but before she did, she made doubly sure to hide the journal where Mrs. Julia would never find it. She was sure Mrs. Julia had seen the other journal in her hand and Ophelia had her misgivings about Mrs. Julia developing a similar interest in it.
Ophelia came back to meet the journal where she had hidden it. She locked her door, got out the journal, sat on the bed, and began to read. The first discovery Ophelia made was as to the owner of the book, a man by the name Guilever H. The first pages of the journal contained the day-to-day activities of Mr. Guilever, his appointments, and activities, nothing of interest to Ophelia until it came to a certain page where Mr. Guilever had an experience so rattling that it resulted in the first narrative account of his journal, a write-up of the event:
Guilever's Note:
Today, at about 1:48 pm, I happened upon some strange creatures, dancing in the light, through the house. I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it myself. They were three in number.
At this note, Ophelia who had been reading with disinterest and disappointment, perked up.
Guilever's Note:
I followed them through the house, to what seemed like the entrance they came from. I intend to follow to see what is on the other side.
There was another sequence of lists and items, plans and occasions but another note came a little later on.
Guilever's Note:
I have never seen such a sight. Words fail to describe it. I know the way, I must take my family through. There's enough room for them there. I won't really miss the house. I'll explain to the children tonight.
The notes came more frequently now, as though his experience had changed him, making him more expressive.
Guilever's Notes:
Ann is being so difficult. Why won't she be more cooperative? I wanted us all to go.
I don't want to leave Ann but everyone else is eager to go.
Becky went first, John would want to go next
I knew it. John's gone now too, but Ann doesn't want to go. All for this house. What's the use of the stupid old house anyway, she might even love the dumb house more than she loves me, why else won't she just come with us?
After this, the next writing was dated 6 months later. It was a letter to Ann, whom Ophelia had surmised to be Mr. Guilever's wife.
Guilever's Notes
Dear Ann,
I am sorry about this but I can't continue to live here. It's too empty without Becky and John. It's lights out and you know it. When you're ready, meet us where we shared our first joy. We'll be waiting.
Goodbye for now my dearest Ann
Yours, Guilever Harry.
The book was blank from here onwards but very evidently, it had been read before, this page carried the marks of a tear streaked and heartbroken reader. Ophelia felt like an intruder. This moment was so private and she had barged in on it. She closed the journal and thought about its contents. Mr. Guilever must have been the former owner of the library. She opened the last page of the journal and there saw a family picture of the Harrys, but to her surprise, one of the people in the portrait seemed very familiar to her. It was Ann or Mrs. Harry, the librarian. This conclusion made perfect sense, it explained her attachment to the house at the very least. But why had she chosen to give Ophelia something so personal? Ophelia resolved to return the journal the next day, which was a weekend. She slept with that firm resolution in her heart but when she got up again, it wasn't to the sunbeams or a new day, no, it was to a smile, just as warm and a familiar yet new face.
'Pearl!', Ophelia restrained herself from shouting at the top of her lungs.
'Shh!', Pearl had her forefinger to her lips else Ophelia might wake up the entire household.
'So you've met with old Ann', Pearl remarked.
'Pearl, I told your sister you came to see me', Ophelia felt this was the most important point. Pearl visibly winced.
'How did she take it?', Pearl asked with a look that closely resembled but not quite guilt on her face.
'She was very angry', Ophelia responded truthfully.
'Well, that's to be expected', Pearl said dismissively and immediately changed the topic. 'What have you learned from the journals?'
'Nothing much', Ophelia responded, 'Only about Mrs. Harry's past really and an explanation as to her present circumstances'.
'Where did you keep the journals though, I scoured through the room but could only find one', Pearl interjected suddenly.
Ophelia wondered how Pearl could know that there was more than one journal. Her silent question was laid to rest when she remembered that Pearl had encountered the librarian before her and that one of the journals she was given was Pearl's, probably upon request by Pearl herself.
Ophelia sighed, remembering the events of the day.
'For the first journal, yours, I couldn't bring home, who knows how Amber would react to seeing it. She would recognize it, you know.' She paused and then went on to remark on Mrs. Julia's strange behaviour.
'And it was the right choice. Mrs. Julia snatched the second journal right out of my hands, Pearl's eyes widened in shock when she heard those words spoken of her mother.
'My mother did that? Are you sure?', Ophelia nodded vigorously at Pearl's questions. Her shock was understandable. That kind of behaviour was out of character for Mrs. Julia, the calm, pristine lady who had never raised her voice even once in the hearing of Ophelia. Apparently, that was only the surface, her calm demeanour and cool tones hid turbulent bottled-up emotions neither Ophelia nor her daughter knew anything about.
'That's a bit of a setback. What will you tell old Ann?', When Pearl said this, Ophelia realized that she hadn't even considered that.
'Nothing', she responded. 'I am confident I will get it back before I would need to account for it' Pearl, who was a more straight-forward person, would have just told Ann were she in the same position but even with her varied views and personality, she had to agree. Obviously, no good would come out of telling the librarian, it would only cause her to worry, or worse, confront Mrs. Julia. This outcome would be the worst possible scenario for Ophelia, Mrs. Julia would learn everything that had transpired in the last few days and of her trip to the library. She already knew of her 'dreams' because Amber had told her. With more information, she may be able to piece the puzzle together and decipher Ophelia's course of action and plans. Ophelia was afraid of what Mrs. Julia might do if she knew the whole truth. Her actions may have a dramatic impact on Ophelia's progress.
'So what do you plan to do?', Pearl asked Ophelia.
'I have to find a way to get the burnt journal back', Ophelia replied.
'Alright. But what about the one you just read? What do you plan to do about that one? Pearl's probing continued.
'Nothing. It's too private for me to keep though, I'll have to return it. I'll read yours in the library, it wouldn't be safe here', she responded.
Pearl's face showed slight disappointment. Ophelia had failed to notice a major detail in the book but Pearl was not allowed to point it out to her. Ophelia must find it herself. In this matter, Pearl was only allowed to guide, choosing for her, bending her will, or even being more direct was not permissible. So though Pearl was disappointed, she laid the matter to rest.
Delight replaced disappointment and Pearl's face lit up as she turned to Ophelia to reveal the real reason for her visit today.
'You'll be learning how to fly today', she uttered with gaiety. A cold sweat formed on Ophelia's forehead on hearing those words.
'I'm not ready', she immediately protested, her voice as shaky with fear as her heartbeat. Pearl's hearty laugh in response was all the confirmation she needed to know her plea had fallen on unsympathetic ears.
'I know, that's why I'm here,' Pearl said, smiling. Without another word, Pearl grabbed Ophelia and flew her out the window in a single swift motion. The next thing Ophelia knew, she was falling. Pearl had dropped her.